


The Grey Suit

by Ilthit



Series: Porn Battle XIV: Fiery Fourteen Submissions [3]
Category: My So-Called Life
Genre: F/F, Future Fic, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-22 19:33:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilthit/pseuds/Ilthit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been fifteen years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Grey Suit

It's been seven years but the moment Rayanne sees her and knows it's really her she feels like they're fifteen again and she's watching Angela's hair bleed red into the sink and wanting her like cocaine or like fries at 3 am. Fuck, that's not romantic, but Rayanne's 33, not fifteen, and she's seen too much of life to bother with roses and candles.

She leans over the railing and shouts her name down the underground station. Angela. Angela.

Angela looks up.

They go for Starbucks. Angela's hair is a conservative blonde now. It softens her face. Rayanne tells her it should be a vivid blonde, like pale electricity. She tries not to notice Angela assessing her, emotions flickering across her face under a pasted-on smile she's never quite learned to make convincing: suspicion, pity, curiosity. Rayanne grabs hold of that last one. You can always work with curiosity.

After a week Rayanne takes her back to her place. Angela's just come off work and she's wearing a pale grey suit that sets off the brilliance of her new dye. Dennis from 2b has a gig tonight so the building's not going to be treated to one of his drum solos. Yeah, it's no high-rise, and Rayanne looks but can't see Angela hesitating any more. She takes her up to the tiny studio and shows her the latest paintings and the stack of unsellables in the corner, opens the window to let the paint fumes roll out and be replaced by the smell of New York.

She shows her the livingroom-bedroom-kitchen combo and Angela grabs her face and kisses her like she's been waiting for this for seven years. They stumble unto the futon and Rayanne slides her hands under the grey skirt, hitching it up to Angela's waist. She's got gym muscles under chocolate softness and Rayanne can smell her want and it's enough to drive her crazy, almost as crazy as she was when she was a kid, almost as crazy as she was seven years ago. Angela must be an idiot, but it doesn't matter because Angela's here right now.

"I'm sorry I turned out everything I said I wouldn't," Angela tells her as she strips off her jacket and shirt.

Rayanne giggles at the absurdity but she doesn't want to ruin this. "Ange," is all she says and then.

She wants all of Angela, to take her time with every inch of her, but Angela needs a quick fuck just to say they did, so Rayanne pulls Angela's hand between her legs and Angela actually squeaks against her neck, she is so fucking adorable, and she's slipping a thumb inside Rayanne and Rayanne bites her lip and and and.

She's so soft and so wet and her breath is hot and heavy and Rayanne's missed this so much. She wants to come but she wants it never to end. She bites Angela's shoulder and her neck and Angela chokes and shudders and comes around her hand. Fast.

She is shivering, but she melts down on Rayanne's body and pushes her nose into Rayanne's pussy, shoves a sharp little tongue on her clit, and it's unprotected yeah but fuck it, fuck it. Angela knows what she's doing. Rayanne lets herself disintegrate, laughing all the way down.

"I want every bit of you," she tells Angela afterwards, tangled up with her in sweaty bedsheets.

Angela thinks before she answers, her eyes on the broken ceiling fan. When she drops them to Rayanne, they're moist. "I want you to take me apart. Is that selfish?"

Yes, it is. Rayanne doesn't mind.


End file.
